


Book 6: The Summerset Campaign

by BepisPerfected



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29132019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BepisPerfected/pseuds/BepisPerfected
Summary: The continuation from Book 5
Collections: Paar Jun; a Biographical Account of Ambition





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Appendix of terms: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29132244

#  Book 6: The Summerset Campaign

As recorded by Dremora Tzukyl, Palace Scribe.

##  Chapter 1

All that remained was to wait. Paar Jun had full faith in his Essentials to perform their necessary tasks and retreated deeper into Oblivion while they toiled. However, he spent as little time in Apocrypha as possible. Hur Momora had been able to do little to contain his Champion and was actively seeking a way to return him under his direct control. The Prince of Fate considered closing off his realm to seal him inside, though that would equally separate him from the cults Jun had cultivated for him across Tamriel, a sacrifice he was unwilling to make. Realizing that his master was likely seeking to depose him, Paar Jun did not wish to reveal any more information of his plans to the Daedra than he had already been able to glean, burning nearly all his plans and maps. Indeed, the Lord Emperor was so determined to curb his involvement that on the 5th of Midyear, he removed the Daedra from the Xiuthan Cult and banned his worship in Empire lands. Though this left the pantheon unbalanced with a distinctly Aedric bias, he had a plan to remedy that in the future.

Instead, Jun spent his time elsewhere in Oblivion. He sent his Ambercore to train in Boethiah’s trials and pulled some strings to secure a cabin for himself and Caldra in a small village within a backwater of the Spiral Skein. Mora would surely look for him in his sister’s realm, and she could not rightly rebuke him without putting herself in jeopardy of his ire, so even here it was recommended they lay low. The Spiderkith were surprisingly accommodating, for a race of predatory daedra, and one even brought the couple a nice skein scorpion bake as a welcome gift. Caldra quite liked this stint of quiet living, watching the younger kith play with their pet arachnids in the streets. This breath of simple peace got the pair wondering what life would be like if they stepped away from it all, content to settle somewhere far away from the wild world of warfare and politics in which they had become embroiled, though inevitably they concluded that boredom would get the better of them. The Atronach had left Vakh Imoulag for that very reason, and yet she caught herself often leaning at the windowsill and reminiscing about her youth. It was not to be, however, as nine days later the townsfolk alerted the pair that Spider Daedra inquisitors had been seen some villages over, alongside one of Mora’s abyssal Lurkers.

They decided to split up and move farther from his reaches to make it harder for the Demon of Knowledge to locate them. Caldra returned home to Infernace while Jun ventured back to the Fields of Regret, recruiting a clique of Skaafin to work for him in the future. Vile determined the intent behind this action and permitted it, secretly impressed. However, the Lord Emperor soon received word on the 24th from his partner that he was needed urgently in Molten Vakh. He gathered his Ambercore and raced to meet her, only to find the province had been consumed by a violent rebellion. The Fifty-Four and One More were immediately attacked by Atronachs, and were forced to hack their way through the crowd before being pushed into a retreat. They fell back to the wilds, losing their pursuers in the forest, and Jun led his Ambercore through the alien environment in search of the one place he hoped to find her. They eventually stumbled upon a hastily constructed camp near a lake of magma, and Jun rushed ahead past the Atronach guards and up a bluff. There, on the crest where they first fought, Caldra stood safe and sound.

The guards grabbed him before he could embrace her, but the exasperated princess quickly waved them off and assured them he was an ally. Jun could only ask what in Oblivion was going on, and she led him away to a shoddy tent to explain the madness of the past few days. However, she had only barely been able to state how grateful she was that he had come so soon before breaking down, nearly crying. From what she could gather, Hermaeus Mora had covertly contacted Imoul Fulminata and somehow turned her own mother against her. Caldra had no sooner arrived than she was put in chains to be executed. The Blazeweaver was able to escape her bindings and flee to safety, where she took shelter with a number of Imoul rebels who opposed the oppressive regime of her corrupted family, and now the princess found herself at the head of a rebellion against them. Even though they legitimately wanted her dead, she could not bear the thought of hurting any of her own family. He asked what made her think it was Mora’s doing, and she howled that her brothers and mother burnt sickly-gold and dark like the demon’s eyes. Jun could only presume that this was a bid by the Scryer to separate him from his best strategist to kill her, so that he, weakened by grief, would be easy prey for the Daedra. Still, he could not believe that Mora would resort to such cruelty, and wondered if they had underestimated the desperation of which Mephala spoke. Though, so too had Hur Momora underestimated them. Apart they may have been vulnerable, but with his might and her guile, they would be more than a match for the demon.

The Ambercore and Caldra’s rebels regrouped into a roaring charge and smashed through the gates to Vakh Imoulag, overpowering the Atronachs with speed and skill in a rampaging sprint for the keep. The palace guards and Caldra’s kin stood fast against the invaders, as they knew how to counter the Blazeweaver tactics that had become so integral to their Toordunkein. However, just as Caldra had learned the hard way, the Ambercore had sheer force on their side, and were able to throw such masses of flames at the guards that they were pushed aside as they stormed the throne room.

The Fifty-Four defended the entrances while the Princess and her partner approached her mother. Fulminata stood to greet them, crowned by the long and branching horns of a true Flame Monarch and burning putrid yellow with corruption. She shrieked that Caldra was not only a traitor, but a disappointing one at that. She had abandoned her family and her people for some wandering mortal, and not even for a respectable one at that, like one of those practiced elven mages perhaps, but a fetid beast so abominably ugly it dared not even show its face. The Atronach reflexively shrank away from her rampant mother as she continued on her tirade, attacking every detail of her life before and since leaving Infernace, the latter no doubt provided to her by Mora. Jun tried to step between them, but Fulminata detonated violently and sent him flying into the wall behind. He crumpled to the ground, bleeding badly out of the blast wound in his chest. Caldra snapped, and tackled her mother to the ground, clawing and throttling the monarch. She managed to push her off and get back to a fighting stance, cracking flames at her daughter like a whip, but it was not enough against the Princess’s grieving fury. She summoned a cascade of fire unlike any raised before and let it crash like a wave over the Monarch, slamming her against the throne and knocking her to the floor.

The Atronach staggered to where Jun lay and collapsed wearily on top of him, shouting for the fighting outside to stop and begging the Ambercore to help her. They retreated from the doors and the guards followed them in, but upon seeing both leaders defeated they put down their weapons. Jun had managed to maintain a healing spell on himself long enough to stop the bleeding before passing out, but one of the smooth hearts leaning over him noticed a chip on his amber heart. The soldiers elected to take him to Nakiir right away and Caldra tried to follow, but the smooth heart stopped her. Molten Vakh was without a leader and someone needed to take the throne. The Root Rangers would be able to fix the Lord Emperor just fine without her, and if he was awake, he would say the same. Everything in her told her to stay with him, but she knew Jun well enough to see the warrior's words were true. Reluctantly, Caldra stayed behind as he was carried away and out of Infernace.

She ascended to the throne and declared the rebellion over. Fulminata was officially deposed and the Princess was declared Monarch of the Imoul clan. Her coronation on the 25th was a celebrated day in Vakh Imoulag, though she spent most of it seeing her family imprisoned. Caldra ordered that they be treated for the corruption wrought by Mora, in the hopes that they could be successfully rehabilitated one day, and hoped that Jun’s plans would be worth the damage. She also took the opportunity to reform the militant Blazeweaver order of her homeland, the Imoul Gallant, who had served in the wars against Dagon so long ago. She had long been known amongst her clan as exceptionally abrasive and stoic, though she seemed far more solemn than they remembered. It was only after a Mazken runner delivered news of Jun’s recovery that her mood seemed to improve.


	2. Chapter 2

##  Chapter 2

The Lord Emperor had not in fact been taken to see Nahkiir as originally intended. The Ambercore arrived back in Nirn at the Ebonheart Ruins, though his sister was too far away to reliably treat him. An invading Thalmor force that had taken advantage of the weak Legions elsewhere and sacked the city of Leyawiin far to the south. Thankfully, Keksa and her forces had arrived there a matter of days before, and a few veteran Root Rangers had remained behind to act as emergency field medics for the soldiers. Soon enough, he was upright and walking again, good as new, though they could not do anything about the chip in his heart.

His presence in the Morrowind Ruins was an unexpected coincidence, as it gave him the chance to speak with his favorite general. Keksa was running the Legion camp admirably. There were always the sounds of troops running laps or training as the centurions ensured their divisions remained in peak fighting form. Legion Nereids were set to work purifying water from the Inner Sea of salt and ash so the soldiers had enough to drink. She made sure to walk often through the camp, checking to ensure the soldiers were staying healthy and that racial tensions between the humans, elves, and beastfolk were kept to a minimum. Rumors of the death of the new King in Markarth and another upheaval in the Reach had riled some of the Reachfolk, Bretons, and Nords, though Keksa had made sure to put a lock on it while they served under her. She ate with her troops and wore outwardly identical armor, though it was actually a much sturdier alloy blend commissioned at Jun’s request from the excitable Legate Quartermaster who ran about the camp. Magrah had insisted on joining the Legion's assignment, and the Orc could often be found snooping around the tents of recruits to see if they had broken her armor, partly so she could yell at them, partly so she had an excuse to fix it better than before. Occasionally she could be found pestering a Neria Dranis, who had been brought to oversee the reconstruction of Agni's rings, and would delight in pestering the uptight Telvanni until inevitably shooed away. Always looking to improve her craft, she had actually come up with two new materials: Legion Green, a cheaper mix of steel and orichalcum for use in mass production of her streamlined Imperial suits, and greenplate, a newer form that folded sheets of ebony between layers of traditional greensteel before being reinforced with ferrofungus to make it as dense as it was durable. She had intended it for use primarily with Giants, or possibly a dragon if she could get one to sit still, though she had still been delighted by the royal order to make a matching set for the Grand Marshal and the Captain of her Lamia guard.

Keksa’s Serpents, as they were colloquially known, had proven invaluable to their leader’s safety. A number of would-be Thalmor assassins had been incapacitated by their ear-shattering shrieks, and in training matches they were known for being able to bring a charging attacker to the floor without even raising a blade, using their heavy muscular tails to slam their opponents to the ground and strangle them. Even the other serpentine members of the Diamond Marines stationed with the Legions had to give credit to the fervor with which they committed themselves to their Domina’s defense. None, though, were more adamant in their protection than the fearsome Miranae. She never left the War Lord’s side, even at night, to ensure she was never left unguarded.

The Lord Emperor wished to use this connection to help him broker another deal. On the 27th of Midyear, for the first time in weeks, he returned to his Palace with both Keksa and her Serpents with orders beforehand to prepare themselves. His court was eerily empty, though as they ascended the steps of the Arcanum Hall, they knew they were not alone. Out of the gaps in the light, the twisted forms of the Pupils of Ink emerged. They crawled around the group and lamented loudly that Jun had left them alone. They began to chant that he was keeping secrets in the place where all secrets are known, jutting with their staves as they leapt and tossed their tangled bodies around the gathered reptilians. Their laughing, lamenting, maddening voices built to a crescendo, at which point the Lamia lunged and butchered the witches. Keksa had them dispose of the bodies, mangled by submergence in Apocrypha, while Jun stomped up to the recluse. He found the Cartographer laboring over the last remaining map, and snatched the parchment away. Satisfied with what he saw, he thanked the Seeker for its service and smashed a quill through its cephalopod head, then burned the squealing daedra and its final map to prevent Mora from thieving the information held within, though he doubted that the Demon of Knowledge would be so easy to overcome. The rogue Champion wasted no time, hastily casting a scrying spell as he shoved his guests back towards the balcony. Once he had a location, he opened a portal and shot through.

The group found themselves in front of none other than Krahvenaak, who seemed more than pleased to see his master again. When Keksa asked what had happened, the Lord Emperor explained that he had sent the dragon flying south from Black Marsh months earlier with the mission to find the land behind the Veil of Mist. The Cartographer and its deific knowledge of location was kept around to track the Dov’s progress, and if the map showed the dragon had flown in a perfect diamond and then landed in the center, that would signify he had found it. Miranae questioned what _it_ was, at which Krahvenaak barred his teeth in the imitation of a smile and welcomed then to the banks of the lost continent of Pyandonea, the mysterious island kingdom of the Maormer.

What little information Paar Jun had been able to find from historical documents told of three basic truths about the Sea Elves: They were master sailors, they despised the Altmer of the Summerset Isles, and they worshiped sea serpents. For six days, the dragon, Xiuthans, and Lamia wandered the seaweed infested plateaus and dense marsh-forests of the island nation until they encountered a glittering spiral city of the ghostly pale Elves. The hostile Maormer and the defensive Miranae instantly clashed, but Jun put a stop to it quick. It took some convincing, but the dragon and serpents within their supposedly diplomatic party lent credence to the idea that Paar Jun was more than just another invader who had stumbled upon their land.

After a few more days of political maneuvering that would have impressed even Caldra, on the 9th of Sun’s Height, Jun earned an audience with the deathless ruler of the Maormer, King Orgnum. The specifics of their meeting are known only to those who attended, but it seems Jun promised the entirety of the Summerset Isles to the King, and that the Maormer would have dominion over the Southern Sea. The Thalmor of the highest offices would be given to the King as his footslaves and the Maormer could lord over the Altmer in ways they could have only dreamed. Jun remarked in later conversations that this was an acceptable alternative to Orgnum’s desire to completely exterminate the race. However, the King was reluctant to join forces with the Combined Ebonheart Empire, as their previous attempt to attack the Isles had ended in a disastrous defeat and the destruction of the Maormer fleet. Orgnum wanted a guarantee that they would not suffer the same humiliation as before. In response, Jun gestured to his dragon. The Lord Emperor then elaborated that he had come alongside the Grand Marshal of his Legions, and the two of them went on to describe the specifics as to the size and strength of the army they were mounting. Jun assured him that the Thalmor would be far too concerned with his overland forces to be able to form any effective countermeasures against the Maormer, and his Imperial Admiral had more than enough ships to turn the tide for a naval battle as well. The Summerset Isles were practically theirs already. The King was not easily convinced, though the literal dragon that seemed to follow Jun’s every word like a trained pup was a moving argument in and of itself. After further more discussion, he eventually conceited and began preparations of his armada.

The delegation departed Pyandonea back through Apocrypha and into the Ebonheart ruins. However, before Jun could gather his Ambercore to return to Infernace, Miranae pulled him aside, requesting to speak with him privately. Curious, be asked her what was wrong. The Lamia confessed that her devotion to the War Lord she served extended far beyond simple loyalty, and indeed she had fallen head over tail for the striding Xiuthan commander. Miranae was certain these feelings were reciprocated, though Keksa’s pride and duty to her Koh-Nassa had prevented her from acting upon them. Rejection could leave the War Lord distracted in the coming battles, an unacceptable occurrence after he had trusted her with so much responsibility. Equally, though, the thought of losing her in the conflict would leave her equally devastated. Jun had a relationship with a fellow warrior, and the Lamia wanted advice on how to proceed given the sensitive nature of the situation.

The Lord Emperor considered this. On one hand, he did not want anything that could compromise the leadership of his army, especially with their deadline nearing. On the other hand, his time with Caldra had been beyond transformative, practically metamorphic in its impact. She was his passion, of course, but also his purpose. He no longer fought and schemed to suit his own goals and self-interest, but for their mutual benefit. He wanted greatness so he could share it with her. They had triumphed together, they had suffered together, and when one was weak the other was there as support. They were one unit, each other’s better half. That was not to say they never argued or fought, far from it, but it was always for the benefit of the whole as opposed to superiority of a part. The more he thought, the more Jun was convinced that their cohesion was responsible in some way for every achievement he had made since they met.

After much deliberation, he told Miranae that he would grant her his boon to go ahead with her plan, for true successful companionship was one of the rarest treasures to exist, unable to be conjured even by the strongest of Daedra. However, he warned that she must not act unless she was sure even in the deepest recesses of her heart, for if she compromised Keksa’s ability to lead, Jun would personally invent a new caliber of agony specifically to inflict upon her, so intense that it would cause even Molag Bal’s stomach to turn. The Lamia thanked him for his council and assured him she would not act while even a kernel of doubt remained within her. At that, Jun departed for Vakh Imoulag to feel his own partner in his arms once again.


	3. Chapter 3

##  Chapter 3

At about the same time, the missing Isle of Artaeum, the third largest of the Summerset Isle and home to the powerful Psijic Order of monks, received a visitor. Within the libraries of the Ceporah Tower, monks were going about their studies as normal when some noticed a viscous black ink leaking out of the books, then gurgling out of the shelves. The pages of their tomes turned blank as their words drained out onto the floor, coalescing into a single slimy, oozing mass of eyes and tendrils. The monks quickly realized this was an aspect of Hermaeus Mora, though as they gathered around it, they were startled by his uncharacteristic intrusion into the mortal world.

The Prince of Forbidden Knowledge decreed that his previous Champion had become unruly and actively conspired against him. The Summerset Isles would fall to his ambition unless he was stopped, and untold horror would follow across all the realms. His eyes in the ink had been shut, sealing him off from his last avenue of confidence, and now Paar Jun hid from him in the crooks of Oblivion. He had no choice but to turn to others for aid, but none of his current servants could hope to overcome the grand power his old student had come to amass. The Daedra admitted that the Psijics would be the only ones capable of handling the threat, though they must act immediately. In scrying the tides of fate, his ink had become smudged, and the page below torn asunder. Mora asserted that a phenomenon not dissimilar to a Dragon Break was coming, a sundering of the logical flow of time due to mortal interference with the divine, and was convinced his student was at the center of it. Jun had unwittingly embarked upon the Psijic Endeavor a number of years earlier and had been stumbling blindly but consistently towards Tower thought, possibly guided now by his sister Mephala and her consort Boethiah. Thankfully, his Champion's current assertions were literal and broken, yet it would not be long before he clutched at divine understanding and caught. Despite the mages particular distain for that aspect of theology, Mora insisted that surely they must recognise the dangers associated with a lesser mortal achieving such power. Though none could prevent the coming Breakage, interference from the Psijics could influence how it was resolved.

Mora then told them what he knew of Jun’s plan: to bypass the lands of Valenwood and Elsweyr and directly invade the Summerset Isles. A small force of ships would arrive, form a beachhead, and construct a portal to Ebonheart where one of the largest armies in Tamrielic history was waiting. Jun had even enlisted the help of the Altmer’s old enemies, the Maormer, to support his invasion. He insisted that all the might of the Thalmor would be unable to match them at full strength, though his plan could be foiled by destroying the portal. Whatever forces remained would be stranded far from reinforcements and easily defeated, allowing the Isles to bolster their defenses against further invasion. Unfortunately, the same craftiness that Mora had once praised now proved to be his undoing, as Paar Jun had been able to hide exactly where they planned to make landfall from the Daedra, though he suspected it would occur at the end of Sun’s Height. This was the last date outlined in his orders to the Essentials, and the most likely time to strike. However, he also cautioned that his student was a keen and unpredictable strategist, especially with his insufferable Atronach by his side, making every possible entry point into the province fair game. Again, Hermaeus Mora reiterated that unless the Psijics acted immediately the results would be catastrophic, before retreating to Apocrypha once more. The pages of their books returned to normal, though the monks were unsure of how best to respond.

The monks meditated for many days upon the issue, debating amongst themselves the legitimacy of Mora’s claims. Their own attempts at scrying events revealed that the Empire had indeed gathered a large force in Morrowind, but they appeared to only be there to put down a heinous rebellion amongst the local Dunmer. However, the Daedra’s acts spoke to desperation, especially since Mora was known as one of the subtlest Princes of Oblivion. They resolved that some amount of his warning must have been truthful and set out to inform the rest of the Isles.

On the 11th of Sun’s Height, Psijic monks were sent across Summerset to warn of an impending invasion at the end of the month. They spoke with the Canonreeves, High Kinlords and Ladies, and Thalmor First Judiciars of every major city, urging them to prepare for attack. The sudden arrival of Psijic advisors across the Isles was enough to convince some to action, but others in higher offices who believed themselves above the reclusive mages found their arrival suspicious. High Kinlady Arannelya, current general of the Thalmor military, attested that the Altmer had handily won the Great War against the Third Imperial Empire and were currently rampaging through southern Cyrodiil and slaughtering its equally ineffectual replacement. She herself was a veteran and had seen the superiority of Dominion troops first-hand. The idea that some lizard Empire could even invade no less overrun the Summerset Isles, the untouchable seat of Elven power, was beyond unthinkable. They accused the Psijics of having fallen for the tricks of a Daedra, one that directly claimed mastery over their opposition’s leader no less. In Alinor, King Ocanym had the monks thrown out of the city and branded as blasphemous fools. 

Still, rumors circulated through the populace of the Psijic’s warnings. As Sun’s Height waxed, an increasing number of Altmer departed to ‘vacation’ in Elsweyr and Valenwood. Guards held their weapons a little tighter with each passing day. Sunhold was one of the few cities that acted uniformly in support of the monks, enlisting merchant ships for use in defense of the port and commissioning hundreds of suits of armor and weapons to be ready for the months end. Thalmor assassin spies around the Ebonheart camp reported little movement from the grand army that had assembled on the wrong end of Tamriel, though they noted that a celebration was held in the middle of the month in the honor of the War Lord and one of her bodyguards. They were discovered and killed before they could figure out why.

Early noon on the 18th of Sun’s Height, 4E 216, almost a fortnight before the invasion was supposed to take place, three Imperial ships were spotted far off the coast of the northern city of Firsthold on the island of Auridon, the second largest of the Isles. They moved sluggishly, though one led them by a good way. High Kinlord Qanilon laughed at the meager group and sent out the city’s navy to meet them. His intention was to sink the pitiful group with a grand display, and prove definitively the Psijics had been nothing more than fearmongering buffoons who had forgotten the inherent supremacy of the Aldmeri Dominion. The nineteen ships of the navy slipped out the narrow gap that separated the city’s sea wall from their harbor and surrounded the convoy far out at sea, archers and battlemages on the decks prepared to attack. Qanilon summoned a great bolt of lightning from his own cruiser and sunk the lead ship with a single strike. It dropped beneath the surf like a stone, and he gave the order for his men to ready their weapons to sink the others. However, before the archers could even nock their arrows, an ominous glow began to emanate from between the boards of their targets. In an instant, both boats erupted in a storm of azure fire that swept across the Firsthold navy and high into the sky. A shockwave from the explosion rocked the stone sea walls of the city and poured into the harbor, smashing moored ships against their docks, and knocking people off their feet. What few naval ships that had not been reduced to splinters by the blast were badly damaged and taking on water.

The Kinlord had his arm broken and multiple rib fractures, but was able to pull himself to his feet. As he looked back at his city, he saw not the destruction wrought by a set of suicidal boats, but half a dozen Argonian siege ships already in the harbor with yet more rising out of the waves. Their trebuchets engaged, launching flaming death across the otherwise defenseless city. When Qanilon realized that he had let his overconfidence allow him to be tricked by a simple diversion, it is said he died of shame right on the spot.

What remained of Firsthold’s defenses rallied to evacuate the civilians, and struggled leaderless to coordinate a counterattack to the battery of artillery that was quickly decimating the city. Archers that tried to get close to the docks were quickly shot down by the siege ship’s ballistae, forcing the populace into a chaotic retreat. The catapults continued to pound the city even after it had been completely abandoned, their echoes haunting the refugees as they fled. What remained of the guard formed a camp on the outskirts, though urged the populace to seek shelter far from the fighting in the larger settlements. The city of Shimmerene on the main island of Summerset was the closest place for them to go, though some refused to brave the sea crossing for fear of more Argonian boats and instead ran to Skywatch farther south on Auridon.

Word traveled fast across Summerset through the surviving Sapiarchs, specialized mages capable of great magical feats including limited telepathic transmissions. Realizing the Psijics had been right all along, Arannelya ordered fighting forces from across the Isles to converge on Firsthold. The Battlereeves believed that Paar Jun had taken the city to use as a stronghold around his portal, and ships full of soldiers from Lillandril and Shimmerene surged to stamp out the invaders before they could get a foothold, hoping to use overwhelming force to their advantage. The thunderous booming from within the harbor had not ceased for a moment throughout the day, and the sun had set by the time the first support ships made landfall.

Dominion troops were horrified at the state of the historic city. Fires ravaged the carefully tended gardens and feasted on the streets. Most of the buildings had been flattened and the blazes rose just as high in their place. Craters carved up the remains, mixing subsurface soil with the charred marble rubble of the cultural core of the Altmer. Thick caustic smoke made progression through the ruins difficult, and Flame Atronachs would periodically dart out of the inferno to snatch soldiers and pull them into the fire. With casualties mounting, all but the most forward teams pulled out of the city to wait for the blaze to die down. A few soldiers and their Battlereeve managed to press on into the center, where the rhythmic pounding of artillery was loudest, only to discover a huge illusion of a drum sustained by a soul gem. It was a simple acoustic spell, the type apprentice bards would conjure for backup music. The soldiers dissolved the illusion, once again astonished to have been fooled by such a petty distraction. However, before they could report this, the Imoul Blazeweavers that had been sustaining the great walls of flame released their hold, letting the inferno flood through the remaining streets and passageways to snuff out any organic being left within the city.

The naval support group from the northwestern city of Lillandril had disappeared out of sight mere minutes before six siege ships burst from the waters in their own harbor and rained fire across the city. What few vessels remained to mount an attack on the battery were quickly incapacitated by a hail of explosive ballista strikes, with only one of the invading platforms being lost in the process. Reports from Firsthold suggested that they had nine total ships, but this smaller force compensated with a land-based assault. The city proper sat on a stone outcrop high above the docks, and the guard hurriedly barricaded the passage up.

However, they could see movement beneath the surf in the late afternoon light. With each crashing wave, more and more burly, armored, figures were revealed as they marched onto the shore. Their legs were thick but long, though their arms were even ganglier and ended not in fists but huge hammers. The soldiers first thought they were Giants fully encased in greensteel armor and with the thickest cuirasses they had ever seen. Their helmets were faceless and all hard angles. Some Altmer thought they saw wisps of steam trailing behind them as they walked, but were too busy fighting to be sure. Arrows snapped on impact with the behemoths as they marched laboriously up the docks, though lightning spells would stun them momentarily and frost spells caused them to curl up and wince. They stopped a distance from the city gates and lined up side by side, numbering twelve in all, with one lone monster walking out ahead. The soldiers took full advantage of this configuration and launched all the cryomagical attacks they could at the armored line while the other guards worked to escort civilians out the inland gates, avoiding artillery fire in the process. The lone marcher swung its hammers at the gate, to no effect, then knelt in front of it with its head down. It glowed bright blue, then erupted into an azure fireball just as the ships in Firsthold and completely decimated the barrier.

With the way clear, the rest of the armored beasts stormed the city. They attacked sluggishly, letting the momentum of their hammers lead their strikes as they demolished buildings and crushed soldiers. The guards were quickly losing ground, but the mages managed to damage the metal marchers as their forces retreated. However, when one became too injured to progress, it would fall to its knees and explode as well, taking out everything in proximity. One battlemage managed to shatter the cuirass of the beasts, revealing not a living being inside but a huge boiler with blue stones packed around it and a glowing yellow crystal in its head. The machine, realizing it was compromised, knelt to the ground and put the two stones in contact, causing them to detonate energetically.

These Steam Martyrs were the brainchild of Hahfrin. In the wake of his accident, Jun and his brother worked on a way to weaponize the violent reaction between Vakka stones and Aetherium. The research of the artificers had allowed them to construct a comparatively simple imitation of a dwarven centurion, but rather than use a dynamo core to power the machines they instead tapped the Vakka stone, and made use of the abundant Aetherium already in Btharzaleft to fill in any extra space under the armor. The ghost ships of Veysan’s surface fleet had offloaded their other supplies so that only their compliment of Aetherium and Vakka remained for the assault on Firsthold. All three ships should have been enough to crumble the sea walls had they been able to get close enough, but the destruction of the city’s navy had been satisfactory enough.

The remaining Steam Martyrs chased the Lillandril refugees across the peninsula of northwestern Summerset to the impregnable fortress of Sea Keep, which protected the whole of the Oleander Bay and the capital of Alinor opposite. The magical defenses of the Keep included a set of Grand Malondo Stones, which fired great claps of lighting thicker than a man’s head and strong enough to completely vaporize a hundred. Their strikes were more than adequate to defeat the constructs, some even detonating them prematurely, though the machines did manage to breach the inner gate and collapse one of the towers before ultimately being destroyed. The Thalmor considered this a pyrrhic victory and immediately sent a fleet from the Alinor docks of south bay to Lillandril to reclaim the city. Though once again, the siege ships had disappeared and left only the flaming ruins in their wake. Both Firsthold and Lillandril had been conquered and annihilated with hardly an Argonian life lost, a crippling blow for the Thalmor. The forces stationed outside both cities spent the night waiting for the flames to die down so they could properly assess the level of devastation wrought, though they suspected it might be total.


	4. Chapter 4

##  Chapter 4

The 19th of Sun’s Height dawned over a demoralized Summerset. The university of the Illumination Academy to the east of Lillandril had been advised to move their student body to Cloudrest high in the Eton Nir mountains late in the evening, and the tired academics were arriving just as the sun was rising. Arannelya had the Thalmor Sapiarchs conjure an impassable arcane sea screen between Sea Keep and the Alinor docks overnight in the hopes that they could prevent siege ships from appearing within the bay, though it was impossible to know if they were not there already. King Ocanym cowered in the Royal Palace and waited for attack. Dawn’s light revealed the gathered Pyandonean armada to the south of the Isles, sailing fast for the port city of Sunhold. The Thalmor High Kinlady quickly realized that the attacks on their northern cities had been diversions for the main naval force planning to invade from the south. Some of her Battlereeves theorized that the Psijic’s dates had been accurate, and that Paar Jun was planning on striking Summerset at the end of the month in the weakened aftermath of the Maormer assault. However, these theories were given little further thought in favor of action as the gathered northern armies had most of their troops diverted to reinforce the southern bastions of Sunhold and Dusk. The Dominion fleet clashed with the Maormer on the open seas, their swan ships cutting through the insectoid sloops of the Pyandoneans but remaining horrendously outnumbered. Reinforcements from the other cities remained hours away. It was up to the brave sailors of their enlisted fleet of merchant vessels to hold the line against King Orgnum’s relentless horde until they arrived.

Shimmerene had barricaded its northern docks to stave off a similar attack to the other cities and put every guard they could spare on patrol. As noon neared, the lookouts quickly spotted incoming Steam Martyrs heading toward the city’s main gate. They were marching up from the shoals to the south of the city, though no siege ships had appeared nearby. Nevertheless, they learned from the previous attack and concentrated frost spells on the approaching constructs, cooling their boilers and slowing them down. Battlereeve Halurdil ordered his men to engage the machines outside the city walls, knowing full well that once they breached the city it would lead to untold damage. He refused to see his home flattened like the others. It was a suicidal tactic to be sure, but bottlenecked at the gates the detonation of just one of the machines would be enough to annihilate the others. In the meantime, he and a smaller group would evacuate the people of the city into the Monastery of Serene Harmony, as far from the fighting as possible, and do their best to keep them safe. The Thalmor soldiers bravely charged out the main gate to meet the constructs head on, knowing that their deaths would save Shimmerene and their loved ones. The Martyrs responded by swinging their hammers through the crowd and killing soldiers by the dozens. However, Halurdil’s plan succeeded, and when the first one crumpled and exploded, the rest were caught in the blast and quickly followed suit. The detonations rocked the foundations of the city, but thankfully, they remained solid. The Battlereeve had spent good men but saved his city from annihilation. The western gate had been extensively damaged by the ensuing explosions from the other constructs and the Plaza of the Eight outside was little more than a smoldering crater, but Halurdil stood proud that Shimmerene had survived. Then the monastery ceiling collapsed.

Other blasts quickly followed, and the Battlereeve realized that the defense of the city was far from finished. The artillery strike had hit exactly over the transept of the building and crushed the statue of Auri-el immediately beneath, as well as all the people huddled around it. As fire spread throughout the monastery, Halurdil ordered everyone out and away from the building. They would go to the docks and try to escape north, assuming any boats remained. Previous attacks seemed intent on destruction only and had allowed the civilians to escape, so he hoped the same would prove true once more. His remaining men encircled the crowd as the Battlereeve led them down towards the docks. Halfway there, they heard the battle cry of the Admiral Veysan and his Diamond Marines, who came seething down a side street. Halurdil forced his men to hold them back to allow the civilians to make it to the boats. Explosions continued to shake the city as they ran, and the Altmer realized that the Argonians and Lamia had slipped into the city through the waterworks beneath, waiting until their infantry were in position to strike with their artillery.

When the civilians reached the port, the people of Shimmerene were met by fire. The nine siege ships from Firsthold had gathered all around the city. Though their first hit had been on the monastery, their subsequent attacks had targeted the docks to prevent them from escaping by water. The clashing of blades came louder from behind them, suggesting that the Argonians were closing in. Instead, Halurdil took the people away from the docks and out the main gate, abandoning the city. As they ran, the Battlereeve saw two horrors claw their way out of the ocean. A pair of monstrous Lurkers stomped out of the waves, accompanied by a swarm of feral crustacean Yaghra from the depths of the Southern Sea. However, rather than targeting the fleeing civilians they instead turned fought the invaders, giving the Altmer precious time to get away. Veysan and his marines managed to kill the daedra and sea monsters, though could only watch from afar as the crowd disappeared into the distance. He was not yet finished.

Far to the south, the reinforcing vessels joined the navy at Sunhold and continued to contest with the Maormer fleet. After hours of tense fighting, Orgnum’s forces retreated to the high seas. The captains celebrated their victory, though wondered why the King had pulled back. The Thalmor’s navy was nearly exhausted, having lost multiple ships to the fleet, and though the Maormer had lost many more they still had the strength to press and advantage. High Kinlord Glanoyar of the city attributed it to Orgnum’s fear of repeating his colossal defeat of the previous invasion and allowed himself to proclaim the battle won.

By midafternoon, the refugees of Shimmerene had reached the farms of Russafeld farther inland. The City of Lights burned bright on the horizon, and the citizens lamented the loss of their home. From out of the smoke, trails of fire shot into the sky one after the other. At first the people thought they were setting off fireworks to celebrate their conquest. Halurdil saw different and ordered everyone to take cover. A fireball erupted at the edge of the vineyards, another flew wide and exploded on the road, while a third was far too short and ignited to the grass outside the farms. These were not the direct attacks of the normal trebuchets; Veysan had spent the afternoon modifying the distribution of ballast in the platforms so they leaned unnaturally back, allowing them to shoot high into the sky and farther inland than otherwise thought possible.

Having got their eye in, the second barrage was closer, laying a clean line of fire across the eastern edge of Russafeld. The people tried to fight the fires with water from the well and the plentiful stocks of wine, though the blaze only burned hotter with the alcohol. The third barrage flew past the others and scorched the eastern fields, trapping the refugees against the slopes of Eton Nir. Halurdil was convinced this was the end for the people of Shimmerene, until he heard the screech of an eagle over the roar of the blaze. A gryphon rode down from the peak of the mountain, carrying a cloud behind it. With a beat of its mighty wings, the cloud condensed into a wall of water and extinguished a path east out of the farm. The Battlereeve recognized the gryphon as belonging to one of the legendary Welkynar Gryphon Knights, sworn protectors of the Summerset Isles. The creature swooped low, allowing the people to see the rider on its back, and she instructed them to head for Cloudrest. The pair then took to the skies again, where she used her greatsword to bat the next barrage of fireballs back into the sea one by one. With the threat neutralized, the Welkynar flew ahead of the refugees and led them to her home city high in the mountain. 

They arrived early after nightfall, finding the city to already be packed full of other Altmer from across the Isles. The Welkynar who had defended them, named Ainmyr, had similarly led the refugees of Lillandril from Sea Keep to Cloudrest earlier in the day for the same reason, wanting to keep civilians as far from coastal attacks from the Argonians and Maormer as possible. The other three Welkynars were in Sunhold, Lillandril, and Firsthold, hoping to understand more about the attacks, leaving her to watch over the people. However, even the grand architecture of the noble city was becoming crowded with so many people gathered within, though they just barely managed to provide cramped shelter for the new arrivals.

That night, the sky above Cloudrest was bereft of stars. Heavy rain forced the few refugees in tents to seek shelter within the buildings, contributing to even tighter conditions. The rain gave way to sleet of ashy sludge, suspected to be from the fires across the Isles, though the amount was staggering. The ooze rose above first story windows and seeped through cracks in the doors in the lower levels of the city. The higher sections, such as the Cloudrest Aerie, still had a thick layer of wet ash settle on every available surface, though were not trapped with others.


	5. Chapter 5

##  Chapter 5

The 20th of Sun’s Height was the holiday of Sun’s Rest, when shops closed and the people were not obliged to go to work. In Cloudrest, the dawn was grey and empty. The ash porridge had hardened once the rain had stopped, becoming a crusted spongey mass coating everything in sight. It glued doors to their frames and some buildings could barely even open their second or third story windows to see outside. Noble Ainmyr and the Cloudrest Guard made their way from house to house to check on everyone, ensuring no one was injured and those inside had enough food to last a while. She joked with the Altmer who were trapped worst that, of all days to be stuck inside, this was the best.

The Welkynar tried to keep spirits light amongst the people as best she could, despite the grim news from her soldiers. The paste may have hardened on the surface, but inside it had coagulated into a viscous goo. Attempts to chip away at the mass quickly coated their tools in thick sludge and rendered them useless until methodically cleaned. Ainmyr spent much of the morning working with mages and Canonreeves to coordinate an effective countermeasure to the sludge, considering even fabricating another rainstorm to rehydrate and wash it away. However, the sky had turned near black with ash, suggesting that whatever rain they could create would be equally tainted. None of their ideas would ever be put into practice, as not a single one would see day's end.

It started in Sea Keep.

They were the first to spot the dragons pouring in from the north and curling around the slopes of Eton Nir. Dozens of the beasts appeared circling around the peaks, seemingly waiting for something. The Altmer wasted no time in rousing every and all available soldier and preparing their defenses for an imminent attack. The Welkynar Gryphon Knight at Lillandril, Iwelion, joined the guard as well.

As the morning wore on, they soon learned what had held the dragon’s back. In the distance, marching down the road from the north, was the largest single Imperial Procession gathered since the last Era. The soldiers marched with clear purpose and distinct organization, with the strongest at the head. War Lord Keksa lead the charge with her Serpents at her side, surrounded by a mixed cohort of Ambercore and Diamond Marines, and backed by charging squad of greenplate-armored Giants and Minotaurs. This battalion diverted from the rest of the Procession and ran for Sea Keep, accompanied by diving dragons eager to join the fight. The main Legions continued down the road, shields raised towards the Keep as they passed for protection but otherwise paid them no mind. The Warden-General Kinol led their march, with some reports suggesting that they spotted an Altmer at his side, but few were focused on the Procession with the battalion closing in.

The two forces clashed in the fields outside Sea Keep. Of Keksa’s special battalion, foremost was the old war hero Gerthok the Tower, who strode ahead of the charge with hammer raised high. One of the Grand Malondo stones of the keep’s defenses turned towards him and released a bolt of lightning that could reduce a galleon to cinders. Gerthok met it with the face of his hammer and swung the bolt into the grass behind him, not missing as step as he surged forward. Chunks of crude Aetherium had been bolted in place of the Giant’s solid metal hammer heads specifically for the Summerset campaign, so they could use the magically inert material against the Altmer mages.

The battalion raged against the Thalmor soldiers, crashing against them like tempest waves. The Elven army fought bitterly to hold the heavy invaders back, slashing through fur, greensteel, and scales alike as the momentum of the chargers plowed into them. From high above, the dragons descended behind the front lines to torch the keep courtyard, drawing the fire of the other Grand Malondo stones. Paar Jun lead them from the skies from the back of Krahvenaak. They dove low, using the Tongue to set fire to the Keep while Jun conjured Imoul Gallants and Blazeweavers to feed the flames. The Welkynar valiantly charged the dragons, taking four on at once and using the agility of his gryphon to stay ahead of them. His blade carved through the Dov’s hides, but he learned too late it could do nothing against their breath. The well-roasted body of the Iwelion and his gryphon fell to the ground, accompanied by the smell of charred chicken.

The Giants quickly destroyed the scaffolding around the damaged keep gates and pushed inside, with Minotaur charges bursting through after. Goar Ironhoof cleft through Dominion soldiers with all the grace of a falling anvil. Corpses of both sides covered the ground around the fortress as the invaders pushed in. However, the Grand Malondo stones were proving exceptionally deadly with proximity. Tusuah attempted to dislodge the stone from its control casing, though from that distance the blast seared cleanly through his tough scales and sent the dragon’s corpse careening into the Sea of Pearls. The stones did not target inside the courtyard of the Keep for fear of killing their own men, so they instead turned on the Procession. No amount of shields could protect them against a strike, and the Thalmor took out dozens of soldiers with each hit. Jun ordered the Dov to shield the Procession with their bodies while their heavy infantry smashed the battlements of the Keep, hoping to bring down the stones from beneath.

Within minutes the flagstones of Sea Keep were stained red as the War Lord and her battalion slaughtered the remaining soldiers. Keksa cheered and rallied her forces to hunt down the stragglers and deserters hiding deeper in the structure. However, with no allied forces to defend, the Grand Malondo stones turned on the courtyard. Miranae saw one activate and leapt to protect the War Lord, tackling and coiling around her as the Keep exploded into rubble. The pair were thrown clear, with the Lamia’s body protecting Keksa from harm by absorbing the full concussive force of the blast. The Xiuthan felt Miranae’s grip loosen around her. As the Lamia's tight cocoon unwound, Keksa heard a hoarse exhale, the whispered confirmation that her charge was safe, as her head came to rest beside her. She held the body tightly, straining to hear a breath that would never come. It had been hardly six days since Miranae had confessed her feelings, five since the War Lord could call herself in love and beloved, so quickly within her grasp and stolen away. Overcome with grief, Keksa focused all her feelings into a wail so piercing and shrill that it forced her remaining battalion to fall to their knees with their hands over their ears, and shattered the Grand Malondo stones like glass.

Paar Jun and his surviving Ambercore picked their way through the battlefield. A good number of their numbers had been caught in the blast and their forms destroyed, leaving intact amber hearts littered here and there amongst the Argonian and Minotaur corpses, though a few had been broken into pieces. Disappointed, Jun had the shards collected so they could be repaired, though he doubted the possibility of that coming to pass, and instead ordered they focus on reactivating the other hearts so they could recoup their losses. Several of Jun’s loyal dragons had fallen in battle, irritatingly. For many, this was not the first time they had been brought back from the dead, as the Lord Emperor harnessed the power of Alduin’s Tongue to raise them once more. Four Giants and a third of the Minotaurs lay slain with the remainder were grievously wounded, though their greenplate armor had prevented the casualties from being any higher. Magrah’s constant tinkering had saved many lives that day. Despite the heavy losses from the battle, the Imperial Procession had passed as planned and were now heading inland up the base of Eton Nir and towards Cloudrest. Jun sent a detachment of dragons to harass Alinor while he tasked himself with the worst casualty of the battle: Keksa.

Her Serpents found the crying War Lord inconsolable. They could not pry Miranae’s body from her grip or even get her to speak between sobs. Jun found the entire display to be pitiful, and silently cursed the Lamia for managing to not only break her promise to him, but escape his wrath as well. Part of him would have respected it had the sabotage been intentional. Since the two could not be separated, Jun ordered Keksa’s Serpents to carry them together to their destination up the mountain. As disgusted as he was by this sudden and uncompromising weakness, he was not going to just leave his best general at the mercy of the Thalmor. He was equally frustrated that his months and calculation and planning would be forfeit without a suitable substitute.

Alinor Sapiarchs despaired when they felt the sea screen crumble and fall away, certain that with the approaching dragons siege ships were inbound. What they and the rest of the Aldmeri Dominion could not understand was where the Imperial Procession had come from. Every city they attacked had been left abandoned, everywhere they appeared they destroyed, and still there was no sign of their mysterious portal. However, the Altmer were only partially correct.

Veysan had left Black Marsh with _The Headsman,_ accompanied by five Imperial vessels and fifteen siege ships. Three of the Imperial ships had shed their stock to a skeleton crew and hung back in the sea to delay their arrival in Firsthold while eight of the siege ships slipped covertly into the harbor and six moved towards Lillandril. The remaining convoy of two Imperial vessels, one siege ship, and his Sea-Giant flagship, had sailed into the northern sea caves of Karnwasten. There they discovered a gang of pirates and smugglers made up of the malcontents of the Summerset Isles, collectively known as the Sharktooth Corsairs. Veysan and the lone landstrider Agni met with the leader of the group, a huge Altmer named Ranwe. She, like the rest of the Isles, had heard of the rumored Argonian invasion, though unlike her fellow Altmer she had no motivation to fight it. She and the rest of her gang were considered apraxic by the citizens of the Isles, permanent outcasts from their peers. Ranwe mentioned that she had a personal vendetta against the Thalmor especially and was eager to see them knocked off their pedestal. She also hated the xenophobia of Altmeri society and hoped that the new Imperial powers could relax the rules that made her an outcast in her own home. The Admiral and Ranwe reached an agreement that she would allow them to use Karnwasten as a staging ground for their invasion and in return they would expel the Thalmor from Summerset. Though she asked for nothing but the chance of acceptance and a few meager shiploads of gold, she did remark that the title Queen Ranwe had a nice ring to it.

Veysan departed in the siege ship to lead the covert assault on Firsthold, leaving the Half-Giants to protect both _The Headsman_ and the supervisor sorceress. Ranwe and her Corsairs immediately hit it off with the northern ravagers, and the ships were hardly moored before they began drinking and fighting like they were back in Bastra Nagh. The pirate's Captain took on three of Veysan's best crewmates in a brawl, and though it was unnerving not to be the tallest one in the ring, she still knocked them flat to the floor and then celebrated by downing and entire cask of wine and showing off her shark-wrestling scars. The Corsairs were more critical of the Nord and outright mocked her, skeptical that the Lord Emperor would leave such an important task to someone so young. After all, Agni had barely broken her mid-twenties, and was short enough for Ranwe to comfortably use her head as an armrest. Despite this, she had grown up under the tutelage of one of the best mages in Skyrim and been tutored by one of the greatest Wizard Lords of northern Tamriel.

Agni disregarded the pirate’s taunts and with the help of the ships’ crews set up the portal in the secluded Veyond Wyte at the opposite end of the Karnwasten caves. She lit the portal and traveled to its counterpart in Ebonheart, announcing that the two ends of Tamriel were connected. The whole of the war camp rejoiced, and caught up in the excitement Miranae had kissed Keksa, figuring there was no better time to confess then on the eve of war. Bewildered but not completely bothered, the two then proceeded to have an awkward conversation that ended in the War Lord announcing to the whole of her camp that a celebration was to be held in honor of the start of the last campaign of the war, and secretly her own newfound relationship.

Agni invited Ranwe, her Corsairs, and the Half-Giants to join in the festivities, which were made even better when the heads a pair of Thalmor spies were thrown into their camp’s main bonfire. From the 15th to the 18th of Sun’s Height, the whole of the Ebonheart war camp was moved into Karnwasten and the caves converted into a staging ground. Hur Momora’s Lurkers and Yaghra minions appeared constantly from beneath the sea to harass them, but thankfully the Legion Nereids were able to use their water magic to construct great curtain barriers from the sea to deter attack, and patrols were constant to put down any who broke through with only minor casualties. After destroying Lillandril, the six siege ships docked in the cave’s port and were promptly disassembled. On the night of the 19th, Jun and his Ambercore had reawakened the fires of Red Mountain and funneled the clouds of ash into the Ebonheart portal, spewing soot out of Veyond Wyte and into the skies over Cloudrest where it then rained down.

Paar Jun and his ilk made use of this ash yet again as the Imperial Procession reached the gates of the mountain city. Using the power of his amber heart, he commanded the sludge to part in the center of the streets, climbing up the walls of the surrounding buildings and forming a thick plaster over their exterior to seal the cramped inhabitants inside. The soldiers and workers wading through the mass were freed, though with the streets clear there was nothing to stop the Procession. They stormed the lower districts with no resistance and crushed what few soldiers they found as they ascended. Welkynar Ainmyr and one of her fellow Knights from Firsthold, Ucalinir, dueled the dragons in the skies as the Procession surged ever farther into the city. Her greatsword cleaved cleanly through the neck of Nahvulkein and sent his decapitated corpse hurtling to the ground, then she split the belly of Lokkunal as he passed overhead.

Warden-General Kinol and Ranwe were at the head of the charge in place of the incapacitated War Lord. The Altmer was only originally there to guide them to the city, but now was determined to prove her devotion to the cause by cutting through the opposition before the rest of the army got the chance. It was plain to see that she was an accomplished battlemage, smashing offensive spells with well-timed wards as she sprinted for an enemy, summoning a great bound axe and using her impressive brawn to slice through any opposition, then dispelling it to do it all again. High above, the Welkynar were waging an equally bloody battle with the dragons. The most elite soldiers of the Isles, the two of them were holding their own against the horde of Dov circling the city. That was, until Kodaarviing and the other frost dragons focused their breath on Ucalinir, freezing him and his gryphon in a thick coating of ice. The pair dropped like a stone onto the roofs of Cloudrest, shattering the ice and their skeletons on the stonework.

Ainmyr roared with vengeance and leapt off her gryphon, plunging her greatsword through the pack dragon’s skull. Her mount circled around to catch her as she and the Dov fell, but Krahvenaak snapped the gryphon in half before it could reach her. She yelled at Jun as she dropped, ripped her blade out, and cast a slowfall spell. Ainmyr landed forcibly onto the bridge in front of the Cloudrest Aerie at the top of the city, while the dragon’s corpse splattered onto a plaza far below, crushing an auxiliary maniple. Battlereeve Halurdil had gathered what remained of the city’s guard to defend the Aerie, though he feared the worst. There was no way they could expel the invaders, no less even hold their own against the massive army. Despite her fury at the loss of her loved ones, Ainmyr knew he was right.

When the Procession reached the bridge, they found the Welkynar and Battlereeve standing side by side in front of their assembled guard. Halurdil made the announcement, stating that they were surrendering the city to prevent any more bloodshed. Paar Jun and his Dov landed in front of them, with the other surviving dragons perching on the bridge behind the assembled soldiers. He scratched his chin, making the gesture to consider their proposal, then stated that the soldiers’ lives had no use to him. Krahvenaak shouted a fireball and Ainmyr raised her sword to face them, though Halurdil pushed her out of the way to save her life. The fireball roasted the soldiers behind, who ran blindly about trying to put the flames out as the dragons snapped them up.

The Welkynar cried out at the savagery of the action and pushed the officer off of her, while the Battlereeve simply fell to his knees, accepting defeat. Jun looked to Ranwe, who he had never formally met, and remarked that she was bigger than he expected. Indeed, she was a full head taller than him and the musculature of her biceps rivalled the girth of a warhammer head. He motioned for her to come forward, as a test of loyalty. Jun remarked that it was shameful for a Battlereeve to die on his knees. Rather, he should die on his feet, at the hand of a worthy enemy. Ranwe smiled and grabbed Halurdil by the throat, lifting him up with one arm so his toes dangled just above the stonework. The Welkynar looked away, though still heard the wet crunch as Ranwe closed her fist, followed by the sopping smack as the body was tossed aside.

Impressed by her brutality, Jun proposed a final test: Show her commitment to a new Summerset by killing the Hero of the old. Ranwe turned to the downed Knight leaning on her sword for support and asked how she wanted to die, bloody or clean, motioning with her respective hands. Ainmyr struggled to stand, glaring between her opponent and the invader, and growled that she had no intentions of going out like a coward. Still, she continued, not breaking eye contact with Jun, there was no glory in dying to a traitor. Ranwe roared back that her ‘treason’ would put an end to the nation that branded her a monster from birth. The Welkynar retorted that she was living up to the reputation well.

She exalted, focusing all her remaining strength into a single strike to launch her greatsword across the bridge. Ranwe easily dodged it, though she was not the Knight’s target. A rippling shout of the Tongue slowed time around the blade to a standstill as Jun maintained eye contact with the Welkynar. Its tip pointed directly at the amber heart embedded his chest, a truer shot impossible. The Knight’s shoulders sank.

The Lord Emperor, on the other hand, congratulated Ainmyr. The feign of weakness, the unexpected attack, and the skill to carry it through; truly she must be _the_ greatest warrior on the Isles. Ranwe hesitantly plucked the greatsword from the air as he spoke, then leaned it on her shoulder and started walking the length of the bridge, admiring the view. As she passed the Ainmyr, Jun remarked that as last acts go, that was by far the noblest she could have hoped for. He considered her the worthiest adversary to ever contest him, but sadly, not worthy enough to defeat him.

With that, Ranwe ran Welkynar Ainmyr through the back with her own blade. She lifted the Knight high above her head, drenching herself in the warm blood, then dropped her to the ground and planted the greatsword through her skull, just for good measure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Book 7 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29132097/chapters/71517159


End file.
